Ekleipsis (9 page)

§ § § §

By the time mid-day
arrived, the mile stretch of booths was overrun with people as
expected. Men, women, boys, and girls wandered about searching high
and low for the one thing they just couldn’t live without.
Everything from armor to clothing, tools to gadgets, games to toys,
could be bought or traded at the market. Along with fortune-tellers
and medicine-men, there were the kissing booths, storytelling, and
all sorts of religious and non-religious professions from mystic to
witch, theist to atheist. If one wanted it, someone had it. Seek it
there, and one would find it. Thus, Land of the Seekers.

The crowd was almost
overbearingly loud, but from a distance, MaZak could almost swear
he heard screams. Again, he heard what appeared to be the voice of
some crying out in fear. Instantly, he paused, ending the
conversation with a young man questioning him concerning one of his
daggers. MaZak did his best to block out the noise nearest him,
trying to focus on the sounds he believed he heard from the
distance. This time he heard a multitude of hollering and so did
Dartego. It was coming from the other end of the far stretch of
booths. Jerking himself from concentration, MaZak watched two of
Xima’s soldiers run through the crowd in that direction.

“Gottlos,” was the cry, as
panic surfaced in the mind of many. Some dropped what they were
looking at and began to run, while others ran still holding what
they had. At least, they tried to run, but there was no room to
move. Thousands of people tried to funnel down the narrow way,
seemingly caged in by the continual booths lined along both sides
the length of the entire market. Mass confusion set in, with the
spirit of hysteria.

Men and women began to
trample the small children, who were unable to get out of the way.
Babies were dropped in the frenzy, as men and teenagers pushed
against the women causing them to stumble and fall. The Gottlos
were coming, but the Ubils were already present. Weapons were
drawn, and people carried by the chaos began to fight one another,
while trying to escape for fear of what was coming. Souls seemed to
lose all conciseness of humanity, focusing purely on
self-preservation.

MaZak and Dartego took off behind the
booths, running toward the screams as most people remained in the
street. Swords in hand, they prepared their minds for battle for
whatever sort it would be. As the crowd pushed and shoved their way
far from the cries, glimpses of soldiers, members of the Sealed,
and independent militias were seen running toward the
Gottlos.

Balls of fire, the size of
wagons, fell from the sky, engulfing groups of people at a time.
Dignitaries ran for safety, using their slaves and soldiers as
shields for protection. Booths exploded on both sides of the
street, sending scraps of burning wood and molten metal through the
air like arrows into the flesh of panic-stricken people.

The smell of burning flesh,
along with torched wood and materials, with sweat, fear, and
screams, filled the air most sourly. The fires were hot and
suffocated the people, as they screamed and ran franticly trying to
escape. Flames and smoke made it difficult to see where to go, but
the masses continued to sway here and there looking for a way out.
Fighting in their fear, they realized not each merely hindered the
other from escaping.

MaZak saw a small child
crying amidst the middle of the path. He was yards away as a burst
of adrenalin boosted him toward her. She was afraid, alone,
standing still, looking all around. She held her hands out as
people ran by without noticing. Her tears dampened her face, and
the smoke burned her tender blue eyes. She was nearly six, with
curly locks of the lightest blonde hair. He feared she would be
trampled by the crowd if he did not reach her.
Almost there
, he thought.

So close, he was but a
couple of feet from her. Fighting against the crowd, he pushed
people out of his way to reach her. Suddenly, he lost his footing
and tripped before he could get to her. A flame, hurled from the
sky, licked the surface of the earth, taking the child and all that
was with it. He saw it flash before his eyes, but could do
nothing.

MaZak’s hand reached out.
The tips of his fingers began to bubble into blisters, while his
anger kindled, his heart melted, and his eyes watered with emotion.
He was too late.
No
, he wanted to scream. Disheartened, it momentarily killed his
motivation. He knew there was no time to ponder, but still it was
taken. He was hurt, both physically and emotionally, but it would
not hinder him from moving to help the rest of the souls from the
attack.

“MaZak,” screamed Dartego, running to
help up his friend. “The Gottlos are too many and you know the
Ubils are causing most of this hysteria. We’ve got to fall back and
try to regroup with the other Sealed and the militias. I’m not sure
how many soldiers Xima really has, but we need to find them
too!”

MaZak turned to face
Dartego with strained redness in his eyes. “The Dragon has come.
You must hurry to tell our families in Nesal, and warn the other
villages on the way. I fear we are not prepared. Call to the Sealed
in every village. Make sure Ciafus knows of this first. Tell him to
prepare for the
Ekleipsis.
Rubicund has surfaced!
”

“I will not leave you here. This is
too much for the both of us,” argued Dartego. “Let me find the
others and…”

Dartego was cut off, as
MaZak grabbed his shoulder tightly.

“You will go now Dartego!” screamed
MaZak.

Dartego was shaken for a moment, as
everything except MaZak’s voice went silent. “The whole realm
including our village is in danger – you must warn them!” exclaimed
MaZak.

Speechless, Dartego looked, knowing he
must leave to warn the others, yet felt as though he was turning
his back on his most beloved friend. The look in MaZak’s eyes, a
look of concern and fear, Dartego had not seen in many
years.

“I shall see you on the
other side. May God grant you speed and safety,” MaZak claimed, as
he turned and ran toward the Gottlos, baring his sword in his
wounded hand.

Rubicund
, the
Ekleipsis
, echoed in Dartego’s head.
Fear tried to overtake him, but he would not allow it. Running
around the outside of the booths, he made his way toward the
stables.

What is that? A sand
storm
, he stopped. His mouth dropped in
awe. He had never seen a swirling of sand so great in all his
years.

Far in the distance, from
the south, a dark cloud of sand swirled in the form of a large
storm, approaching the city of Palvolin with enormous speed and
force. Moving with remarkable momentum, Dartego could see no escape
for anyone in Palvolin. The people were closed in with the Gottlos
to their rear and the storm approaching their front. And, it
appeared, the people would rather weather the storm; for they
continued to run head long into it.

This is indeed a dark day.
May God help us
, Dartego
thought.

From the storm came an
unusual flame, along with the hint of dark wings on either side.
From amidst the dust, Dartego could almost see a disturbing face
with deep green eyes, large smoking nostrils, and massive jaws of
fierce teeth. Moving at a tremendous speed, its wings almost
touching the ground, powering them up and down against gravity, the
beast was coming, projecting himself as an arrow toward Palvolin.
It was
Rubicund!

Enormous would be too small
of a word to describe him, while majestic not worthy enough to be
used. He was a dark, red beast having the countenance of a
reptilian devil, with wings extending past both sides of the
market, and a tail swinging left to right as he soared closer. If
not so horrid, he would have been a most breathless sight to
watch.

His massive jaws held razor
sharp teeth, spewing forth fire from his gut. Covered in thick
plates, he flinched not at the spears and arrows being thrown his
way. A chilling sound came forth from his vocal chords between
balls of inferno. Flames evaporated everything in his path. The
force of the wind that followed his swooping upward, threw even
those the fire had not touched forcibly to the ground, almost
putting out the burning flames with the twist of air.

People recovered and were
running all over getting nowhere. Making it to the stables, Dartego
pulled down the first saddle he came to and quickly threw it on the
fastest looking horse he saw.
I’ll have to
settle if we live through this
, he
thought.

Mounting the horse, he held the reigns
with one hand and gripped tightly his sword with the other. Slowly
making his way through the people, trying his best to keep from
trampling them with the horse, he glanced over his shoulder to see
the destruction gaining on him.

Gottlos by the hundreds
were cutting and slashing at people of all ages. Some were being
held off by members of the Sealed, militias, and soldiers of Xima,
while others were free to slay the innocent. Flames and smoke
filled the air, and caused Dartego’s view to be hazed, as he
searched for the slightest glimpse of MaZak. Once again, a desire
to turn and help slowed Dartego’s emergence past the crowd. Torn
between helping his friend and what he knew he must do, burdened
his heart and twisted his stomach.

There, I see
him
! Amidst the smoke, Dartego saw MaZak
carrying what appeared to be two children in his arms – maybe eight
or nine years old.
He is still
alive!
Covered in soot, Dartego could see
they were coughing and holding on for dear life. A glimpse of hope,
it was enough to empower him to ride; to ride unto Signum and tell
Ciafus, then to Nesal to warn the villagers.

Above him flew
Rubicund
, a fierce and
evil creature few had seen and lived to tell about. Circling above
the people with blazes spewing from its muscular jaws, the bold
dark, red Dragon showed no mercy, with his powerful wings and tail
swirling the smoke and fire around like tornados. Some of the
Gottlos equally became victims to the inferno of the flying beast,
but it ceased not from its destruction of Palvolin and the seekers
there for the market.

A tall, burly Gottlo pulled
an arrow from his quiver. Filthy, his clothes looked as though they
had never been cleaned, being tattered and dirty. His hands were
large, with every crack and fingernail holding grit. The muscles in
his arms drew the string with ease. The wood bent, leaving only the
sharpened arrow head made of stone extending past the bow, resting
on the pointer of his fist. He took a breath to steady himself. His
aim was fixed, he was ready.

“Stop!” shouted Vikadore,
placing his enormous hand on the Gottlo. Immediately, the Gottlo’s
aim dropped, and the draw of the bow was loosened. The Gottlo faced
Vikadore as if questioning the order.

Larger, in every way, than
the Gottlo he touched, Vikadore was the captain of the Gottlos. His
face was full of thick wrinkles embedded with muck, and his eyes
drooped with broad bushy brows. He stood likely seven-four,
towering over most. It would take two men to carry such a sword as
his, and never had one been so brave to challenge him. His voice
was deep and rough, holding a sense of asthma, “Jagare has
commanded that one be allowed to live. Come. Return to the
slaughter.”

Striding from the village,
Dartego firmly pressed the horse to its limits. The wind to his
face, forcing away the smoke with every breath feeling fresher, he
dared not look back. Emotions of anger, fear, sympathy, and
anxiousness filled his mind as he rode. Questions, answers,
tradition, folklore, King Salvare, the Book of Wisdom all came
together in the midst of his thoughts, from things learned over the
years necessary to separate fact from fiction.
God help us! Please send the King!

Choices

Early morning came with dew
and the smell of fresh air. The sun was barely awake, with only a
small halo appearing over the oaks and sycamores of Nesal, while
faint hints of light played peek-a-boo amidst the trees. The
village was quiet, but for the rustlings of three teenagers getting
dressed and saddling their horses. It appeared Rayhold had
convinced Vandor and Kayla to accompany him to see Cenobia in
Qualtes.

Yawning still, they mounted
their horses, mostly speaking in grunts and nods. It would take
quite a while to travel south to Qualtes, so they made sure to pack
themselves loaves of bread, goat cheese, some jerky, and a full
water pouch each. They would enjoy the time together. It was just
too early to think of such things.

The sun finally decided to
show its face, awakening the three a little more. The trip so far
had been silent, till it was broken by Kayla. “So Rayhold, how long
have you liked Cenobia?”

“Uh,” caught off guard, “I found her
very nice when I came with my father to purchase some animal hides
a while back. I just thought it would be nice if you both could
meet her and she could meet you two.”